Dr. Thorpe: Maybe a woman, because of the hairlessness and the hourglass figure, but I'm really hoping it's a man because I don't want to have seen this woman without a shirt.

Zack: Meanwhile the Stormtrooper and Bobba Fet have teamed up to take care of some blackheads.

Dr. Thorpe: The bottom of Darth Vader's chin is a little too pronounced, so it looks like he's got his mouth open really wide and that grille is his teeth. He looks really surprised and a little scared.

Zack: I think he has sad eyes.

Dr. Thorpe: Yeah, wide open mouth and sad puppy dog eyes. It looks like the Emperor just told him "Darth Vader, you're fired!"

Zack: Okay, you know what, Jabba the Hutt is a bad choice for a tattoo. Really bad. But fine, you love "Star Wars" that much, put him on your back. But why did they add his tentacle-headed sidekick dude? Couldn't they have put Lando or Moff Tarkin or someone better there instead?

Dr. Thorpe: And isn't Jabba the Hutt supposed to be sort of green? He just looks like a giant discolored birthmark with a little frown drawn on it. And he's got that one little hand sticking out. It's kind of creepy, like maybe it's this person's little half-developed conjoined twin popping out of their back. Like the guy in "Total Recall."

Zack: He's like the world's fattest T-Rex.

Dr. Thorpe: This seems to be a decidedly Return of the Jedi-flavored scene, except that Darth Maul is there gumming up the operation.

Zack: Man, I just made myself sad. Imagine how bad it would have sucked to have been an obese dinosaur. There probably weren't many since wild animals are almost never really fat, but maybe there was some raptor with a glandular disorder that looked like a turkey drumstick dipped in green paint.

(indecipherable yelling as eight heroes stand still in an ankle-deep wavepool)

About This Column

Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.